I don’t know how long it takes me to respond, but eventually I whisper, “Sure.” I step aside as I hold the door open, invitinghim in even though it’s probably the worst mistake I could possibly make in a situation like this.
I thought I’d be Logan-free, that I’d never see him again. I don’t have any classes with him this semester, so I thought… well, it doesn’t matter, because here he is.
Logan steps inside, walking past me and heading deeper into the house, and as he does so, I can’t help but close my eyes and breathe him in, like some pathetic girl who can’t get enough of the guy who keeps breaking her heart.
I need to hold it together.
Closing the door, I lock it back up and follow Logan. We end up in the living room, though neither of us go to sit. The TV is on, playing something mindless—some reality show about heavily botoxed people falling in love. I’m a sucker for shows like that, even though I know most of the relationships at the end fizzle out.
I’m a fool for love, what can I say? Always have been. It’s why I was stupid enough to believe Mike and I would go the distance, while he was cheating on me with my ex-best friend for two whole years behind my back.
“What, um, what do you want?” I hate how nervous I sound. This is the guy I was never afraid to tell off, a guy who I always had a backbone to. He was someone I thought I didn’t really care about, but I guess that’s why things are different now. The past few months I’ve had to reckon with the fact that somewhere along the way, Logan had claimed a piece of my heart for himself, even if he never wanted it.
Logan stands a few feet away from me, with his back to me, so I can’t read his expression. His shoulders rise and fall with what looks to be even breaths, but that doesn’t say much. This guy has never held back when it comes to saying mean things, so I mentally prepare myself that he’s here to be cruel.
That’s what he does. He says it like it is, with no empathy whatsoever. He’s too busy in his downward spiral to give a single crap about anyone else.
Slowly, he turns to face me, and I hate that I feel a flutter in my lower gut when his green eyes land on my face. His brows are together, but beyond that, I can’t figure out what he’s thinking, or why he’s here. What the heck he wants from me now.
Hasn’t he already taken enough? Hasn’t he done enough?
His voice is much gentler than I’m anticipating when he says, “I thought you left.”
I don’t know what he means, so I don’t say anything in response. I just stand there and wait for him to continue, because surely that isn’t what he came here to say. There has to be more.
Logan shakes his head once. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Well, you saw me, so if that’s all you want, you can go—” I stop the moment he takes a step forward, and just like that, there’s one less foot between us. Three-ish feet turned to two, and suddenly he’s too close.
Too close, and yet not close enough.
“No,” he says vehemently. “That’s not—just let me say what I need to say, and then I’ll go.” A few seconds pass before he continues, like he’s waiting to see if I’m going to argue with him or cut him off.
Even though it might be a mistake on my part, I am curious why he’s here, what he could possibly have to say after all this time.
“I’m a fucking asshole. I’m the shittiest person around.” He shrugs. “I never think about other people, never cared enough to. I’m not—” He pauses as he swallows hard. “—good at this sort of thing. I was so caught up in my own shit, in feeling sorry for myself, that I didn’t care about anyone else around me.”
Everything he says, I already know. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Logan was in a downward spiral ever since he got kicked out of Black Sacrament, even if it was his own fault for being such a jerk.
A rude, misogynistic jerk while wearing the Black Sacrament mask. If he would’ve been out of the costume? He’d probably still be the lead singer, and no one would be the wiser—and my life would sure as heck be different.
Logan takes another step closer to me. Now there’s a foot between us. I should step back, remind him that I don’t want him to be this close to me, but I can’t. All I can do is angle my head back and wait for him to say more, because there has to be more.
“Everything I said that night, I meant it at the time,” he says, “but none of it is true. Not one single thing. I’m the pathetic one, not you. I’m the fucking worthless one, not you.” He chuckles, but it’s a low, mirthless sound. “I’m the one who has nowhere else to go, no hope for the future, but you? You’re gonna do great fucking things, Wren, I know it. You’re gonna graduate from thisfucking place and be happy, and you’re gonna forget all about me.”
I’m taken aback by how raw he sounds. That low, scratchy voice of his has never sounded so… so tired, so bleak. He’s still confident in what he says, but the nature of everything he’s telling me leads him to sound so utterly despondent.
“You’re better than me,” he whispers. “You’re so much better than me. I thought the only way to feel good again was to drag you down. I’m sorry, I am. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking asshole. I’m sorry I suck. I’m… I’m just so fucking sorry.”
I shouldn’t believe a single word he’s saying; logically, I know that, but as I stand there and listen to him, as I watch him, as I see the pain on his face and hear it in his voice, I do. I believe him. I believe every single word he says.
Does that make me a fool? Does it make me gullible?
“You,” I finally find my voice, “hurt me, Logan.”
“I know. I wish I could take it all back.”
“But you can’t. You hurt me. You were so mean, and then you just… you left, and I—”